


Lucky You

by Carloswilliamcarlos



Category: Logan Lucky (2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Logan Lucky (2017) Setting, Duck Tape Bar & Grill (Logan Lucky), F/M, Fluff, Logan Family Curse (Logan Lucky), Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:27:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24614488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carloswilliamcarlos/pseuds/Carloswilliamcarlos
Summary: Clyde Logan is all too familiar with curses. Luckily he has just what you need to break one of your own.
Relationships: Clyde Logan & Reader, Clyde Logan & You, Clyde Logan/Reader, Clyde Logan/You
Kudos: 39





	Lucky You

There were plenty of things you were lucky for in your life, and you knew this. You had a family you loved immensely, friends you’d die for, a job that fulfilled you (90% of the time, at least), and a cozy apartment all of your own. Every day you awoke with a fresh sense of possibility brewing in your mind like a pot of hot coffee, painted on a coat of courage and creativity like lip gloss, and stepped out into the sun wrapped in optimism as bright and trusty as your favorite yellow blazer. You were lucky in many ways, you reminded yourself as you pulled out the driveway on the way to your office. You were a very, very lucky girl. 

But you were very unlucky in love. 

It had been, you counted backward in your mind again... WAY too many years since you’d been kissed. Next month would mark lucky number 7. 

The breakup between you and your high school boyfriend had been messy to say the least and borderline traumatizing to say the most. A year or 2 to recover, a few more of surviving college, a few more after that of starting your career. All that mixed with a cocktail of mental health struggles and dating muscle memory that faded fast, and you were left alone, even as your friends got married, even as they popped out babies, even as you smeared that lip gloss on in the mirror every morning and told yourself it was all going to be OK. 

Some people are lucky in those ways. Some people are, you told yourself, cursed.

\-------------------

It had been another long one at work. Fast-approaching deadlines, confusing assignments, tense convos with your boss. It all had you drained. You sighed on the drive home, pointing the cool air at your face as Ben Folds’ voice floated around you. “The Luckiest,” this song was called. If it hadn’t been such cruel irony, you would have laughed. Instead, you couldn’t help but start to cry.

Just as the self-pity took hold of you and the first tear slipped out, you heard a pop. 

Your car wobbled. A flat tire. Fucking hell. 

You pulled into the next parking lot on the side of the road. Any empty-looking bar. Duck Tape, it was called. Somehow you’d never noticed it before, locked in the rote repetition of your commute,

A quick glance at your phone revealed your battery was dead. Great. You were stranded. Stranded, and, as if you needed a reminder, alone. 

On any other day you would have thought up a plan in seconds. Would have laughed it off. Dealt with it. Picked yourself up and got yourself through it like you did with everything else. 

But today, as the sky opened up and started pouring in an even crueler twist of fate, all you could do was sit and stare out at the parking lot and dare a bolt of lightning to strike. 

“Darlin’?”

A shout came from Duck Tape’s door. Turning your head, you saw him. Tall, strong, dark-haired and built like a redwood, with the kindest and most worried-looking eyes. 

He stepped out a bit further. 

“Darlin’ your tire’s out,” he called. 

You laughed dryly. “I know.” Probably too quiet for him to hear. But you didn’t have the energy for anything louder. 

“D’you want me to call someone for ya? Why don’t ya come inside?”

With a deep breath and a heavy dose of “fuck it,” you popped open the door, trotted to the covered porch, and stood in front of the man, who was blocking the doorway. 

He stared at down you almost dazed, almost timid, like a puppy looking for his mom. 

“I’m Clyde,” he offered after a pause. 

You told him your name, reaching out to shake his hand. A tiny shock ignited as your skin touched. 

He jumped a bit. “Ow,” he spoke, lips twinging up into a smile. He shook his hand as if you’d burned it. “Y’shocked me.”

Part of you just wanted to ask for his phone. Part of you wanted to brush past his attempt to be cute. Part of you wondered if you had it in you at all to play along. 

But part of you warmed when you caught his smiling eyes. Just like that little shock, part of you sparked awake, a jolt of something igniting in a way that felt distantly familiar. A tiny lightning strike. You’d been hit after all. 

“Come on in,” Clyde continued, stepping back and holding open the door.

\-----------------

An hour or 2 or 3 later and you were still sitting at the bar, leaning on your hand and gazing up at Clyde with lazy smile. Whether it was the whiskey, the heating, the conversation, or something much deeper, you didn’t know- all you knew was you were warm from head to toe.

The call about the flat tire was long forgotten. You couldn’t care any less. 

In the corner of the bar, two older men took turns on the little video slot machine, watching a football game with half-baked interest. 

“I always said my family is cursed,” Clyde said, leaning casually down against the bar to get closer to your eye level. “The Logan family curse. That’s how my brother hurt his leg, how my mammy got sick, and how I lost my hand,” he said, holding it up a bit. 

“I’m cursed, too,” you said, whiskey clearly loosening your tongue. “I haven’t been kissed in 7 years.”

You looked down at your glass, suddenly feeling stupid for comparing your lack of dating luck to the loss of a limb. Clyde was quiet for a moment. 

“Darlin’,” he spoke hesitantly, “Lucky for you that’s a curse that can be broken.”

You caught his eye for a moment before glancing back down. 

“Unlucky for me, that is not entirely in my control.”

Silence hung heavy in the air.

“Look here,” Clyde spoke abruptly. You looked up and straight into his eyes, an intriguing mix of courage and fear swirling. “Life is hard enough without curses. Y’got... dipshits and work troubles and... flat tires. GIrl like you don’t deserve any of it, but you especially don’t deserve to be cursed on top of it all.”

You swallowed, not daring to break eye contact. 

“So,” Clyde huffed out a breath and leaned in close. His hand reached up to cup your cheek, thumb delicately stroking over your cheekbone as his eyes carefully studied your lips. With one last glance into your eyes, he leaned in and brushed your lips with the gentlest, sweetest kiss. Time slowing, your body alight with goosebumps, you pressed into it, relishing the soft, delicious feeling you had dreamt about for 7 long, unlucky years. 

“CLYDE BOY WE DID IT!” Cheers, dings, and mechanical coin sounds erupted behind you as the men at the slot machine whooped and scrambled to their feet. “WE HIT THE JACKPOT! BOY IT’S OUR LUCKY DAY”

As the cheers of joy continued and the machine chimed out its victory tune, Clyde pulled the slightest bit away and looked into your eyes. “Lucky them,” he said with a sly smile. 

Eyes dropping down to Clyde’s lips. you answered with only a whisper. 

“Lucky me.”


End file.
